


bullet proof (I wish I was)

by anniebibananie (alindy)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Hunter!Miller, M/M, Werewolf!Monty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/anniebibananie
Summary: Miller has hunted monsters his whole life; he can’t even remember a time before it. He’s fine giving up all the things it requires—attachments, a home, a life. It’s fine, really. That is, until he comes to Arkadia to run a case with Bellamy and Clarke and he meets Monty Green. Everything sort of turns to hell after that.





	bullet proof (I wish I was)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @millersmontyy on tumblr, a.k.a. my beautiful amazing friend Harley!! It's her birthday today, so go follow/send her love/tell her how amazing she is. Or just like... do that everyday because she deserves it. I hope you like this Harley! I tried to give you some fun werewolf bits, but I kinda did my twist on it. Anyways, I love you!! Have an amazing day!!

There wasn’t a time where Miller  _ hadn’t  _ hunted monsters. Obviously, there must have been one at some point, but if he certainly couldn’t remember it. It was tough sometimes to grow up moving town to town with his parents as the jobs popped up, living a few months by a few months. But he didn’t  _ know  _ any other way. Monster hunting was a lifestyle choice you didn’t recover from. 

His mom got killed by a djinn when he was five, his father by a werewolf when he had just turned 20.  And now he was 26—alone, tired, and still hunting the goddamn things. Mostly because it was all he knew how to do. Also because it was easy. Monsters bad, humans good. Rinse, repeat. He had a good head for hunting, and an unshakeable sense of morality which helped him sleep at night (most nights, some nights). 

It was going fine until he met Monty right on the cusp of his 27th birthday. It was going fine, and then suddenly everything wasn’t. 

* * *

“Miller!” The voice was low, resonant even as it called across the street.

Miller turned to find Bellamy, leaning up against his vintage muscle car in a dark blue plaid shirt. A fondness spread through his chest, and Miller checked both ways before jogging across the street. It had been a year or two since they had seen each other last, but Bellamy was by far one of his best friends. 

They’d met on a hunt almost ten years ago, and while at times they fell away from each other due to irregular schedules, they kept in contact fairly well. It was different for Bellamy, who was married to another monster hunter, Clarke, and actually had a home base. Miller hadn’t had an actual home since before he hit adolescence. 

They embraced with a few cursory claps to the other’s back before Bellamy nodded for him to get in the car, which he did without questioning it. 

“I’m glad you came, man,” Bellamy said. “It’s been a while.” 

Miller nodded, surveying the scene in front of them. It was a small town, the sort that weird phenomenons were always happening in. It surprised Miller that Clarke and Bellamy would choose to settle here. There was something funny about it, actually. Bellamy and Clarke who were always traveling the most out of all of them, living city to city, settling down in a small town. 

“I got stuck in some long jobs,” Miller said. “I’m glad to be here, too.” 

Bellamy took a hand off of the steering wheel to scratch at the side of his face. “So, you’ve read up on what’s happening here a little bit?” 

“I saw the newspaper article, texted you, and now I’m here. I don’t know much more than that.”

Nodding, Bellamy eased the car down another side road. “We haven’t been able to track the den quite yet, but we’re pretty sure it’s on the East side of town. That's where it seems most of the activity is coming from.”

“And you’re sure it’s werewolves?” Miller asked. 

“Yeah, pretty sure. It’s a simple case, honestly. We mostly need you for the man power, not your intelligence. No offense.”

Miller scoffed as he eyed the sly smirk building on his best friend’s face. “You know I’m both the prettier and the smarter of us. Pretty sure Clarke would have fallen for my charm if I wasn’t strictly into men.”

“Is that still a thing?” Bellamy asked, teasing in his voice. “Because as far as I’ve heard, it doesn’t seem like you’re strictly into  _ anyone.  _ You haven’t been with a person since Bryan. Which was, what? At least six years ago?”

Bryan. It had been nearly that long since he had even heard his name said. The person who had dated Bryan was a different Miller, a younger one. Someone who was still the least bit optimistic about making the world a better place. Not the one who just did what he did out of obligation and an inability to imagine any other sort of life for himself. 

“I don’t need to date to do my job,” Miller said with a shrug. “If anything, dating makes it harder.”

“It’s nice to have someone by your side after a long day.”

They passed by a more deserted, industrial part of town. There were a few long warehouse buildings, and Bellamy pointed them out with a wave. 

The two sat in silence as they surveyed the town. The radio was low, but the sound of something acoustic echoed lazily through the speakers. “You’ve become such a softie,” Miller finally said. 

Bellamy shrugged, shooting him a smirk. “Love, man. Love and the fear of death at every corner. It’ll do crazy things to you.” 

No one had ever seemed worth that, Miller thought. No one had ever seemed worth putting at risk, and even with how much Miller knew Bellamy and Clarke loved each other he couldn’t imagine it. Bellamy could give this all up, maybe. No more monster hunting. No more moving town to town. The idea felt so foreign in Miller’s head he had to shake it out before it spread. 

“Let me see that crazy wife of yours.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy asked with a raise of a brow. “She’s making lasagna for you and everything.”

Miller scoffed. “Domestic.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

A home. A family. Something to come back to after everything. Something you always knew was there, waiting for you. Miller wasn’t even sure what that would feel like.

* * *

Miller had a sleeping problem. It was  _ hard  _ to create any semblance of a sleeping schedule when you were on the road most of your life. The best time of day to attack was usually under the cloak of darkness, so strictly speaking, Miller didn’t sleep much. He’d learned a long time ago to function on irregular hours and only a handful at that.

But when he wasn’t actively researching or hunting, it posed a problem. There were certain spots to always expect open—McDonald’s, maybe a diner, laundromats. He usually ended up at superstores to wander the aisles, picking up odds and ends as he saw fit. Which was how he found himself at a Walmart hours after dinner with Clarke and Bellamy had ended. 

After spending a few minutes staring at the crackers, contemplating whether he wanted to buy some as a snack, Miller heard something clatter to the floor an aisle or so over. There were several loud cracks as metal hit the linoleum and then a loud hiss. 

“Fuck,” someone muttered. The voice was amused yet tired. 

Without much thought about what he was going to see, Miller walked over. He wasn’t normally swayed into amusement—it was hard to get him to laugh when he had decided to be serious, and, sometimes, even harder to get him to crack a smile. His life existed at a pretty singular state of emotion, the only real deviances when he was happy with his handful of hunter friends (Clarke and Bellamy, Murphy, Harper) or angry due to a hunt. 

The scene in front of him, however, was undeniably  _ hilarious.  _ A man stood in front of him, surrounded by fizzing cans of soda that had gotten his pants half soaked. His hair was wild, his eyes tired, but the funniest thing about it wasn’t the chaos or even the silence with which it had occurred: it was the look on his face. His hands were spread slightly by his sides and his face was filled with exasperation as if things like this happened too much for his liking, and he might as well give up. 

The man turned toward Miller at the scoff that left his lips. Now that Miller could see his face fully, he could tell he was in his early 20’s. With dark hair and a thin but muscular build, Miller undoubtedly found him attractive, especially when the smile overtook his face like it was effortless. 

“You think this is funny?” he asked, waving his arms around even more wildly. “Well, it  _ is _ , but I’d rather strangers weren’t just laughing at me in my vulnerable state.”

Miller felt the left side of his mouth tug upward, and he bit it down with a shake of his head. Walking over toward the man, he crouched to pick up a few of the cans. “I didn’t even realize I was being so rude.”

The man popped down to a kneel, suddenly on the same plane as he threw the sodas in the box they had fallen out of. “You don’t have to help pick these up,” he said. “I actually get paid for this. It’s my job.”

Shrugging, Miller passed a few of the sodas over. Why was he even still here? Talking to this stranger? In a few hours he would have to wake up and investigate disappearances with Clarke; he  _ should  _ be trying to sleep. But sleep wasn’t anywhere near as inviting as the curve of this man’s lips. 

“You always work the shitty hour shift?” Miller asked instead of answering. 

“Says the guy  _ here  _ during the shitty hour shift,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I’m Monty, by the way.”

Miller held up his hand to shake with the stranger. “Miller.” Monty’s palms were bizarrely soft, and Miller became hyper aware of how callused his own hands were in comparison. 

“It’s a good shift,” Monty said seriously. “Quiet. Not a lot of people bother you.”

Nodding, Miller cleared his throat. The strength of his gaze made him almost uncomfortable. There was a feeling tugging at his chest that there was something familiar in Monty’s look. He couldn’t figure it out, though. It was like trying to find something in the pitch black, searching for a sound with nothing but your sense of touch. All Miller knew was that it _was_ there, and he could feel it.

“I’m going to have to get the mop,” Monty said with a sigh as he finally stood up. “Do  you… Do you need help finding something?” 

Miller’s mouth opened and closed. “Is there anywhere worth going at this time of night?” 

Monty shook his head. “From one insomniac to another, there’s really nothing worth the time.”

“You think I’m an insomniac?” Miller quirked his head. 

Monty laughed. “You’re at Walmart at 1:30 in the morning. Yeah, I do.” 

“I could just be having an off night.”

“You could.” Monty put the cans into a cart sitting nearby. “But you’re not. I’ll see you around, Miller.”

He pushed the cart down the aisle, sending a wave over his shoulder before turning. Miller watched him until he disappeared. 

* * *

“You ready to go, pretty boy?” Clarke called from her place on Miller’s motel bed. It was a truly atrocious color of yellow that Clarke had spent a whole three minutes laughing at before falling into it

Miller scoffed. “Stop calling me pretty when you've seen the man you're married to.” 

Clarke popped up onto her feet and met him by the mirror, reaching up to adjust his tie. Begrudgingly, he dropped his hands to let her. 

“Bell is pretty, but  _ you  _ have the best eyelashes I’ve ever seen—women included.” Clarke patted the side of Miller’s face, laughing as he shoved her away playfully. 

“Aren’t people going to recognize you around here?” Miller asked. “Maybe going undercover isn’t the best idea.”

Clarke adjusted her blazer in the mirror, pausing mid-movement at his words. “I… hadn’t even really thought about that. I actually live here, now.”

Miller laughed. “You guys really are getting domestic without even realizing. You’ll be joining a book club before too long.”

“Oh, shut up.” Clarke looked into the mirror and bit her lip. “It should be fine. We’re only going to interview one person, and it’s not like anyone knows us here. We’re still gone on hunts most of the time.”

“You guys ever going to just give it all up?” Miller asked. He wasn’t entirely sure where the words had come from, but suddenly the curiosity built inside of him. It burned against his skin.  

Jolting, Clarke cleared her throat and looked away. There was something that flashed across her face Miller wasn’t sure how to identify, but him and Clarke had never been much for talking about their feelings. It was why they got along so well in the long run. They bottled things up, focused on the problems in front of themselves. It made them good hunters, too. 

“Maybe,” she said, her voice a little softer than Miller had ever heard it. Or maybe he had—once or twice directed at her husband. Certainly during the small wedding ceremony they had had two years ago, just them and a handful of friends. 

Sometimes, Miller thought about them all gathered in Bellamy and Clarke’s new backyard as the two said their vows. They weren’t even dressed up, but there had been cake and a lot of alcohol. Everyone talking about their best hunts and drinking to the friends they had lost. 

“He found me on a hunt about a half year after my dad was killed,” Clarke said. Miller could remember vividly the way she had reached out for Bellamy’s hand and had just known it would be there. “I was still pretty green then, didn’t know nearly as much as him. We didn’t get along at first, but we kept showing up at the same hunts.”

“I still think she was stalking me,” Bellamy said, the group laughing along as Clarke slapped him on the arm. “We’ve saved each other’s lives more times than I can count.” 

Clarke shifted again in the present, and Miller felt almost bad for setting her off balance. It hadn’t been his intention, though he wasn’t sure what his intention had been in the first place. Talking to them yesterday, though, had just made him feel like the world was shifting and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He couldn’t even quite put his finger on it, but it felt like there was something blocking him from them. It bothered him, mostly because it had never been like that in the past. 

“Miller, why aren’t you staying with Bellamy and me?” she asked. 

So much for them never talking about feelings, Miller thought. Though, he had been the one to pull the trigger first if he was being fair. 

He shrugged. “It’s nothing, Clarke.” 

Miller didn’t have to turn his head to know the look she was giving him. It probably sat somewhere between concerned and frustrated. They never pushed one another, but he knew she wanted to. It was a tangible energy in the air. 

“Okay, let’s go investigate.” 

He nodded, following her out the door. “Let’s go investigate.”

* * *

“My wife! My husband!” Bellamy called as they came through the front door. “What did you discover?”

Clarke fell into the dining room chair next to him, flopping her head against his shoulder. “Mostly, a whole lot of nothing.” 

Miller set the bag of burgers and fries they had bought on their way home down on the table, sitting across from the couple. “The case became less simple than we originally thought.” 

Bellamy quirked a brow. “How so?” 

“It still looks like werewolves, but the people who are being murdered don’t seem to have much of a pattern to them. They’re showing up in different parts of town, different ages, different ethnicities…”

“Doesn’t that just confirm what we thought?” Bellamy asked as he reached for a burger and unwrapped it. He took a hefty bite, speaking through the food. “Random attacks just means they’re feeding to stay alive.” 

“Normally, yes.” Clarke pulled out something from her bag, laying it down on the table. It was a map, and when she opened it up the circle of dots the two of them had laid out an hour or two prior was visible. “The bodies are all equidistant from a singular point, making a circle from right here.”

Bellamy squinted as he leaned in to see the spot she pointed at. “In typical fashion, it’s a warehouse, because supernatural activity can never happen anywhere that isn’t old or abandoned.”

Miller snorted. “Precisely. And on top of all that, the killings aren’t happening once a month, either. They’re happening sporadically throughout the month, a few every week. It’s the hearts that are missing still, so we should assume werewolves, but it’s not happening at the time of month they feed normally.”

Groaning, Bellamy leaned his head against his hand. “I hate when we have to do more work.”

Clarke patted his arm supportively. “I know, sweetie. Just eat your burger and then we can get back to work.”

Miller finally grabbed one for himself, staring down at the map. This was just bizarre. Bellamy was right—so much for an easy case. This required planning and investigating and figuring out what was going on. If only hunting monsters was as simple as hunting, period, but they thought more than animals. 

At least his burger was good. There was consolation in that. 

* * *

He wasn’t sure why he found himself at Walmart again. Well, he  _ did _ know, but Miller was ignoring the part of himself that realized he was coming to Walmart just for a cute guy. That and a whole bunch of problems weighing on his back that Miller was not at all ready to delve into, if ever.

Miller, above all else, was practical. So, he stopped to pick up some batteries he needed for his flashlights before searching for Monty. Though, if you had asked him what he was doing he would have said  _ browsing _ . Monty was in the snack aisle, loading up the potato chips. 

He perked up at the sound of footsteps, and his face went from passive to grinning when he spotted Miller. “You,” he said. “Miller. You’re back.”

“Batteries.” Miller held them up in explanation, taking some steps further down the aisle. 

Monty quirked his head, the smile still in place. It was doing weird things to Miller’s chest, adding another thing onto the pile of topics he was willfully ignoring. 

“Just the batteries, huh?” Monty chuckled and shook his head. “You really are an insomniac. Two nights in a row.”

Miller shrugged. “You were right.”

Monty nodded. His smile twitched on his face. Did he ever stop smiling? It was almost unnerving if it didn’t light his face up so much. Without warning, he turned down the aisle and looked over his shoulder. “Wanna join me on my smoke break?” 

Not waiting any time at all, Miller slipped the batteries still in his hand into his pocket and followed Monty. He was surprised by the fact that Monty smoked, but he wasn’t going to question the opportunity to spend time with him and an easy distraction. 

They walked through a small, back hallway and out a door. A few feet to the right sat a rustic picnic table, and Monty climbed up to sit on the top. Miller joined him a second later, watching the way he pulled out the box of cigarettes and held them in his hands. 

“I don’t actually smoke,” Monty said finally, breaking the silence. “You just get longer breaks if you do because my boss is a total dick.”

“But you still carry a pack of cigarettes around with you?” Miller asked. 

“I like to be thorough with my backstory.” 

Miller tried to resist the way his lip curved up in reply to that, but it was hard to keep it down. Instead, he reached for the box of smokes and took one out himself. Their hands touched for a beat too long, and he pulled away. He propped the cigarette up on his lips, bringing his lighter up and taking a drag. 

“You try so hard to pretend you don’t have emotions,” Monty said. His eyes darted to the cigarette in Miller’s mouth, and Miller filed it away to think about later. 

Miller quirked a brow. “You don’t even know me.”

Monty shrugged. Miller felt so contrary to Monty. Everything felt heavy to Miller—speaking, acting, thinking. It seemed so light in contrast when Monty did it. There was something intriguing about that inherent lightness in him, though. Miller couldn’t seem to look away.

Putting the cigarette into his mouth, Monty met his gaze with a half smile. He pulled out the cigarette, giving a fake puff in his direction. “I have a feeling I probably will.” 

* * *

It fell into a routine after that night. Clarke, Bellamy and him investigated during the day, they did dinner during the evening, and then the night was reserved for him and Monty. Walking through Walmart aisles and discussing anything and everything.

One night Miller let it slip all his family was dead, and Monty didn’t say any of the pitying shit he had gotten too used to. He told him about how everyone he knew was gone, too, just his best friend Jasper. 

“I don’t actually like working at Walmart, you know. Big shocker there, I’m sure,” Monty said as they stacked toilet paper. “I wanted to go into engineering.”

“What happened?” Miller reached out and stabilized the stack after a roll began to teeter. Monty readjusted them, and they both removed their hands to look at their handiwork. 

“I got stuck,” Monty said with a sigh. He turned to Miller and gave him a sad smile. “Life happened, I guess.” 

Miller cleared his throat and turned his eyes back to the toilet paper. Away from Monty’s bright smile and brighter eyes. “You seem like the kind of person who could get unstuck. If you really wanted to.”

“I’m really growing on you, aren’t I?” 

Miller could practically feel the lit up expression on Monty’s face without sparing a glance. But he was weak, so he glanced anyway. It was better than he had imagined. 

Monty shifted. “You could get unstuck, too.”

“I’m not stuck,” Miller said. It sounded a little pathetic to his own ears, though, and he couldn’t help shifting the idea around in his head. His life was just his life, one hunt at a time. There wasn’t any way to get stuck when you only did the same task over and over again. Time was a non-issue. 

He thought about Clarke and Bellamy, though, and the way their lives seemed to be moving  _ toward  _ something and not just moving for the sake of moving. When he looked at Monty, he felt a pull that maybe he could have more if he just leapt to it. If he got over the things he couldn’t even look at for too long. 

Spending so much time with Monty was doing a lot of things to Miller’s head he hadn’t dealt with in a long time. And his heart, but he only admitted that to himself as he laid down for a few hours of sleep before the cycle started again. Sometimes, he even let himself dream a little. 

* * *

It got easy to forget why Miller was actually in town, sometimes. The days rolled on and on, and despite the fact that they talked about the case, they also didn’t. They lived their lives, laughed, and he spent time with Monty like he really was just visiting his friends in town instead of trying to find creatures to kill.

Then, other times, it was impossible to forget. 

“I think we finally have all the pieces together,” Clarke said over chinese takeout. “We know it’s an organization, we know it seems like they’re collecting and selling hearts, and, after intel from Raven, we know where they’re located officially.”

“We just don’t know who’s running the operation.” Bellamy tapped his finger against his beer bottle as he stared down at the map. “It seems so simple, and yet we just don’t  _ know  _ who it is. They’re covering their tracks.”

“Good old fashioned stakeout?” Miller asked. He took a swig from his beer, finishing the whole thing off. 

Bellamy sighed around a mouthful of orange chicken. “Guess so. Tomorrow it is. We’ll need to figure out the coming and goings if we hope to take the whole operation down.”

“What’s going to be our plan with that?” Clarke repositioned in her chair to sit on top of one of her legs. “I mean, we can’t just kill  _ everyone.  _ They’re not all guilty.”

“They’re part of the business. Of course they’re guilty.” 

“Miller,” Clarke said with a tilt of her head, “you can’t actually be that harsh.”

He shrugged. “If we start taking the time to figure out who we need to save and who we need to kill, then it’s going to get a whole lot messier.”

“So, the solution is to just kill everyone?” Bellamy asked with a raised brow. “That’s a little intense even for you.”

Miller wasn’t sure where this was all coming from. A few years ago, Bellamy and Clarke would have been just as ruthless as him. Hell, they might have been  _ more so.  _ Bellamy with all his family gone or as good as, and Clarke with a dead father and a mother who betrayed her… they both would have thrown anyone to the wolves for the sake of a victory. 

“This is our job,” Miller said. “This is what we do.”

“Not for much longer,” Clarke muttered.

Miller stilled. His eyes roamed back and forth between Bellamy and Clarke, both wearing matching expressions of guilt. He cleared his throat, regaining composure. “You guys are getting out? Officially?”

Clarke met his gaze, and a palm was suddenly holding protectively onto her stomach. “I’m pregnant, Miller.” 

“Pregnant?” He hated how his voice broke slightly. This wasn’t how he wanted to respond to this news if it ever came. He wanted to sound more hopeful, more understanding. This was exciting, after all, but all he could think about was that suddenly all the rules he had been living by were shifting. 

Families very rarely got out of the hunting lifestyle. Even when they had kids, his parents hadn’t been able to stop from integrating him into going after monsters, teaching him everything they knew. To hear that Bellamy and Clarke were actually moving on and attempting some sort of normalcy was a shock. 

Bellamy and Clarke joined hands on the tabletop. Their fingers interlocked, and for a few seconds Miller couldn’t seem to shake his eyes away from the image. A partnership. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about Monty and the smiles he gave away like they cost him nothing. 

“I’m so excited for you,” Miller finally said after composing himself. He stood up and moved over to the couple, clapping a hand on Bellamy’s back and pressing a kiss into Clarke’s forehead. “You guys will be great parents.”

“We hope so,” Bellamy said, and Miller noticed for the first time how joyfully his face lit up. “We also hope Uncle Miller is around a lot.”

Miller gave a small smile down at the two. “Of course. The little guy needs some positive role models in his life.”

“I resent that,” Clarke said, slapping his arm. 

Miller laughed, lightly, and took a step back. “That no sleeping thing is catching up to me. I’m gonna go and get some rest before our stakeout tomorrow.”

Clarke reached up with arms extended, waiting for Miller to bend down so she could wrap them around his neck. “Sleep well, Miller.”

Bellamy slapped him lightly on the forearm. “Coffee is on you.”

“Sounds good.” Miller and him shared a look, and though he was grateful for the way Bellamy looked at him with compassion—the way he looked to make sure he was okay—Miller was in no way ready to talk about anything with him. Most importantly, he didn’t want to  _ ruin  _ this moment for the two of them. 

Miller smiled a little more convincingly, slapped him one last time on the shoulder, and left. 

* * *

“Is Monty here?” Miller asked, his voice too breathy for his liking. He had driven hurriedly to the Walmart and practically sprinted from his car to the door.

The boy looked up, all lanky limbs and ruffled black hair. “You Miller?” 

Miller crooked his head and noticed the name tag—Jasper. This was the best friend he had heard a lot about since getting to know Monty. Jasper seemed a little more mellowed out than Monty had described him, but that could have come down to any number of things. Miller nodded in response. 

“Monty thought you might show up. He told me to give you this.” The boy looked gleeful as he slipped the piece of paper from his pocket to Miller’s hand. That was more like the energy Miller had expected after the myriad of stories he’d been told. 

It was a simple note, telling him he was off of work for the night and giving him his phone number. Miller waited until he was sitting on the bench outside before texting him. There were a few anxious minutes before a text came back through, and then a minute or so after that he had the address linked up in his phone. 

He should slow down, Miller thought as he was back in the car. Take a few minutes to think things over and process everything that'd happened. Despite the fact that he  _ wanted  _ to be that person, he couldn’t find it in himself. Miller didn’t do irrational things, but everything about tonight was exactly that. Clarke and Bellamy having a baby? Getting out of the business? Starting a life when they knew exactly all the things that went bump in the night? 

Absolute insanity. He might as well be a little insane himself. 

Monty’s apartment complex didn’t have an elevator, so Miller had to walk up the three floors. By the time he had arrived, fist poised over the dark wood door, he finally let himself contemplate what exactly he was doing. Just because he was freaking out about the prospect of a baby didn’t mean he had the right to barge into Monty’s life. Miller sighed and knocked despite his better judgement. He didn’t  _ want  _ to think about any of that. 

“Miller! Come in.” Monty stepped to let him pass, closing the door behind him. 

Miller’s fingers tightened by his side as he took in the apartment real quick. A couch, a dinner table, a few furnishings. The place was pretty empty, but there were signs that were distinctly Monty—tools on the table, a NASA poster on the wall, a deck of cards spread on the floor. 

“Can I kiss you?” Miller asked, wincing at his poor execution. His fingers twitched for Monty in his threadbare blue tee shirt and the slight fluff to his freshly washed hair. 

Monty tilted his head to the side, and his expression spoke of nothing but endearment. Miller breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve been hoping you would.”

Miller surged forward, holding Monty’s face in his hands, and when their lips met in the middle he felt his stomach release its tension. It had been so long since he kissed someone, even longer since he kissed someone so worth kissing. Monty clawed at Miller’s tee shirt to bring him closer, and Miller’s lips quirked up at the edges, nearly to the point of making kissing impossible. 

“My name is Nate,” Miller said as he pulled back, the two of them still connected by the forehead. “It feels like something you would maybe want to know.”

“Nate,” Monty said as if testing it out. He smiled, pecking Miller quickly on the lips before pulling back. “I like that. I like you.”

The thought Monty had just spoken was dangerous territory. Territory he hadn’t much contemplated until he said it, and certainly hadn’t anticipated entering into when he came over tonight. But he did like Monty, probably more than he should have, and it was so much harder to ignore that when he was standing in front of him telling him the same. 

“I like you, too.”

“Good.” Monty nodded. “Then why don’t we talk about what’s on your mind before we make out some more. Sound good?”

The left side of Miller’s mouth tilted up. “You’re smart.”

Monty popped up onto his toes and kissed Miller right below the jaw. “I like to think so, too.”

* * *

“This is so boring,” Clarke whined as she shifted her feet up onto the dashboard. “I’m hungry, too.”

“Here.” Miller tossed a bag of donuts up into her lap from the backseat, and she opened them with a squeal of excitement. 

“You’re my favorite,” Clarke said through a bite. Bellamy reached for the donut in her hand, and she slapped his hand away. 

“Honestly, why am I married to…” Bellamy’s voice trailed off as a car came into view, and Clarke reached hastily for the camera sitting by her feet. “These are the first people we’ve seen in hours.” 

“I’m getting the license plate number.” Clicks filled the car, and Clarke leaned closer to the window. “I’ll get their faces, too, if they ever get out of the fucking car.”

“You’re all sorts of pent up today,” Bellamy said. 

She shrugged. “Blame it on the baby.”

The word baby lit Bellamy’s face up, and Miller turned away to put his attention back where it was needed. Hopefully, they could actually glean some information out of all of this, maybe even out of some _ one.  _ It was going to be a bloodbath if they couldn’t figure out a way to make sure it wasn’t, and that they knew exactly how many people they were dealing with. 

Two figures exited the car around the same time. Clarke clicked her tongue as she waited for them to turn at least a little bit, show more than just their backs. Miller had a sense of something heavy in him, like he recognized something too familiar in the statures. But it couldn’t be…

“Got them,” Clarke said through a smirk. 

The taller man turned and Miller could tell it was Jasper from the night before. The stone in his stomach sunk further as he finally caught the other man’s face: Monty. Out of all of the people to be entering into a werewolf den, it was his unlabeled  _ something.  _ He wouldn’t be entering a werewolf den if he wasn’t a werewolf. 

“That’s Monty,” Miller finally said as the two men walked through the side door. 

“ _ That’s  _ Monty?” Bellamy asked, astonishment laced in his words. “Walking into the abandoned warehouse?”

“Who’s Monty?” Clarke’s eyes whipped hurriedly back and forth between the two of them, searching for what she didn’t know. “This is a partnership, guys. I want to know stuff, too.”

“You knew Bryan and I hooked up before him,” Miller replied. 

Clarke fist pumped into the air victoriously while Bellamy glared at her. He shook out of the gaze, turning back over the seat to look at Miller with a hard gaze. 

“Don’t get off topic,” Bellamy said. “ _ That’s  _ Monty? Boy from Walmart, Monty?”   


Fortunately for Miller, it seemed Clarke had calmed down enough to just listen to whatever conversation him and Bellamy were about to have. It was nice that he at least didn’t have to attempt to describe what him and Monty were. Even the extent of what Bellamy knew was that they had talked a few times, and he thought Monty was cute. 

Miller nodded. “I had no idea he was a part of all of this. None.”

Bellamy reached his hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate to say this, but… he should be our in.”   


“No,” Miller said, shaking his head. “He’s a  _ monster _ , Bellamy. He’s…”

“You liked him, didn’t you?” Clarke asked. “You know who he is, I’m assuming, it doesn’t change just because–”

“Who the fuck are you guys?” Miller cut her off, the anger boiling in his chest. This wasn’t who he was, but suddenly everything seemed to be building up. Bellamy and Clarke with their perfect life. Monty turning out to be a  _ werewolf.  _ His life, his perfectly packaged life, falling apart at the seams. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Miller was all about control and here he was, losing all of it. “I mean, this is not the Bellamy and Clarke I’ve known.”

“Miller,” Bellamy started. 

Miller cut him off with a hardened look. “Vampires killed your mom, Bellamy. And your dad died because of a fucking shapeshifter, Clarke. Do you guys remember what killed  _ my _  father? Because it was _werewolves_ , and I’ll be damned if I ever let another family be ripped apart because of them.”

“You don’t need to remind me why  _ my  _ family is gone, Miller.” Clarke angled her body over the seat, her hair crackling with anger and her eyes on fire. “But if you can’t remember that the guy you’ve become  _ friends  _ with isn’t a monster just because something he couldn’t control happened to him, than you shouldn't still be doing this job at all.”

Miller’s whole body froze. That was great in theory, but every time he thought about werewolves all he could remember was the way his father’s body fell to the floor after a wolf came straight at his throat and spine. The spill of the blood on the concrete around him. The light leave his eyes. 

And no matter how much Miller had come to like Monty, now all he could think about was that he turned into the same thing that killed his father. 

“I need to go,” Miller said. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Before either of them could protest, Miller had shoved his way out of the car and began walking down the street. He jogged a little, mostly just to get away from the scene and avoid blowing their cover, and then he walked far enough away to think. 

* * *

Miller paced in front of Monty’s door, thoughts somersaulting through his head one after the other. All he could think about was Monty walking into that building and what it all meant. He hadn’t wanted to come here, but after a few hours of walking, it seemed like his feet weren’t capable of taking him anywhere else.

Keys jingled up the stairwell, and Miller froze in place. When Monty appeared, his throat was so dry he wasn’t sure he could even speak at all. 

“Miller! I didn’t know you were showing up.” Monty stepped forward and reached up to kiss him, but Miller took a step back. Miller’s heart almost tugged at the way Monty’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What’s up?”

“You’re a werewolf?” Miller wasn’t sure why it had come out as a question. He already knew the answer. 

“I…” Monty trailed off, unsure what to say. “You’re a hunter, obviously. I kinda thought you might be, but I wasn’t sure. Let’s talk about this inside, if you don’t mind. Assuming you’re not going to kill me.”

Miller followed him through the door, and though Monty motioned toward the couch, he didn’t want to sit. There was too much energy coursing through his body. 

“Why’d you think I was a hunter?” Miller asked because it was easier than asking anything else rushing through his head, overwhelming his senses. 

Monty shrugged. “You’re up at odd hours, you wear a lot of practical clothing, and it looks like you’re always carrying a gun. Hunters are usually on their own, don’t have a lot of family.” He brought a hand up to the back of his neck and looked up at Miller through his eyelashes. “I’m sorry for not telling you, but I didn’t know how, and we were just getting to know each other.”

“It’s not just that you’re a werewolf,” Miller said, though that was a huge part of it. Just hearing the word sent an ache through his chest. “You’re a part of that whole mob. How many innocents have been killed at your hands?”

Monty’s head shook side to side. “You don’t understand what’s going on at all.”

“I understand well enough.” Miller took a step forward. The energy in the air was hot and stifling. “People are dying every couple of days for the sake of a heart bank. So, what’s the deal? Are you selling them to the highest bidder or sharing them all around so everyone can get a taste?”   


“You really think I’m like that after everything?” Monty asked. It was hard to read his face, but Miller tried anyway. Mostly, there was just a lot of hurt and a dash of sadness. Some confusion and anger thrown in, too. “I’m just a monster now, huh?”   


“I don’t know what to think,” he said. “You haven’t explained any of this to me.”

“You haven’t given me the chance to!” Monty flung his hands to the side. “You think I want to be part of this? It’s be a part of Dante’s mob or  _ die.  _ There isn’t a werewolf in this town who hasn’t been forced into this, and only the elite members want it to be this way. Hell, I was changed  _ because  _ they needed more numbers. I sure as hell didn’t ask for this life.”

Miller halted, thinking about the terror of waking up something you didn’t even knew existed. It made him shiver. 

Miller shifted his weight. This couldn’t happen—him and Monty. His whole life had been simplified into good and bad, and it didn’t matter how good Monty seemed or how good he made Miller feel. He couldn’t do it. “We’re going to take the whole thing down, but we’ll need your help.”

Monty paused, caught off guard by the conversation shift. “You came here to ask for my help and just yelled at me first?”

“You want to take them down or not?” Miller tapped his fingers against his thigh. 

Nodding, Monty sighed. It was clear the anger was still coursing through his body, and there was still so much left unsaid, but Miller had never been good at talking about feelings. He’d barely been good at talking about anything at all. 

“Of course. But it’s going to be harder than you guys think. You have to have a thorough plan. There’s a group meeting three days from now. Everyone is required to come, it would be a good opportunity, and I can give you the list of the must hit targets.” 

Monty stared him down, eyes serious, and continued. “I can’t tell you the location, though, unless you promise this isn’t a mass execution. There are good people who have been sucked into this, Nate, who never asked for it. With families and lives and dreams. I’m not sending all of them to their deaths.”

Every fiber of his being told him to ignore those words. A monster was a monster was a monster. There were so few things that he had witnessed that proved him otherwise. Yet, here was Monty and he hadn’t felt like a monster at all. It was easier to take them all out and be done with it, it played easier to his moral upbringing. 

But Monty was right, and Miller had to push through that feeling. His chest fluttered when he caught a glimpse of Monty’s lips, the same lips he had been kissing only last night. How things could change in less than a day. He had been a werewolf even then, though. Not knowing didn’t change that. 

“You have my word,” Miller said. He cleared his throat and nodded as if to assure Monty, though he thought it might have been more to assure himself. “Minimal casualty. With your help it shouldn’t be a problem, considering you can get word around about what’ll happen.”

This placated Monty, and his shoulders slumped. “Okay. I can get you all the information you need, and I can talk to some people I trust about spreading the word discreetly. Most of these people aren’t actually murderers, Nate.”

The fact that he was still using his name despite everything only made Miller more confused. He wasn’t sure what he thought would happen when he came here, but even getting a plan in motion wasn’t making him feel satisfied. Even knowing what he knew didn’t quell the ache in his heart. 

“I have to go,” Miller said. His voice came out thicker than normal, and he cleared it as he looked back up to Monty. “We can plan to meet up beforehand, or text me the information.” The silence sat too heavy between them and Miller made for the door. 

He had never thought he ran from confrontation, but he had started to realize most of the things he thought about himself were just wrong. He was wrong about a lot, lately, though that was hard to admit. It was a lot to process. 

“So, what are we? We’re not just done, right?” Monty called, and Miller froze. 

There was something about the fact that after all of this, Monty still held something in his heart for him that was too heavy for Miller to hold. Miller was pretty sure he didn’t deserve it, but he was pretty sure even before all of this he would have never deserved Monty Green to begin with. 

“I wish I knew,” Miller said as he stood awkwardly in the doorway, half in half out. “My dad was killed by a werewolf. It’s personal.”

Monty winced. “I’m sorry. It’s not… I’m sorry.”

Miller nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you…” The words trailed off into nothing.

Monty might have said something as Miller escaped out the door, but he was gone too quickly to hear it. 

* * *

The next three days involved a lot of planning, and unfortunately for Miller’s heart, that meant Monty was around more. Even worse, Bellamy and Clarke  _ liked  _ Monty a lot. Bellamy wasn’t quite as fond of Jasper the one day he showed up, but that was fine. They hadn’t killed each other, which was a good enough victory in itself.

It was agreed that Clarke couldn’t be a part of the attack, not with the baby growing inside of her, but that meant less manpower. Monty and Jasper had assured them, though, that as long as Bellamy and Miller were able to show the fight was going to go in their favor, they could talk a lot of their fellow wolves into fighting alongside them. After they got all of the main council taken care of, the mob itself would be gone, too. 

Bellamy, Miller, and Monty stood outside the back entrance of where the meeting was going to be. They were all vibrating with energy, ready to go and fight. 

“You guys know the plan? You’re good on the plan?” Monty asked for the millionth time. Bellamy clapped him on the arm in assurance. “Don’t come in for at least ten minutes because he won’t be in position.”

“We’ve got this,” Bellamy said. “You can trust us. We trust you.”

Monty shot Miller a look filled with questions. Miller wasn’t all that sure what his face must say in reply. Most likely not nearly as many answers. 

“Good luck,” Miller said with a nod. 

Monty’s mouth opened and closed, like he might say something, before it snapped shut again. “You too.”

He turned down the alleyway, and Miller caught Bellamy glaring at him. 

“That’s all you’re going to say? You’re not going to make up with him?” Bellamy asked. 

Miller shook his head and leaned up against the brick wall. They were in a more residential part of town, but the building itself was still under construction. Dante himself owned it—his hands were in a lot of honey pots it would seem. 

“I wouldn’t even know what to say.” Miller felt uncomfortable with the way Bellamy was staring at him; his skin almost felt clammy with the heat of it. “What?”

“You tell him you love him. That you’re going to stick around and it doesn’t matter what he is, just  _ who  _ he is.”

“Clarke’s made you romantic,” Miller said with a scoff. It was clear his body was off kilter, though, with the way his fists clenched and his wrinkled eyebrows.

“No more deflecting.” Bellamy shook his head. “I know you were freaked out by the baby, and that's fine. You’ve never known any sort of life beyond hunting, it’s why it was hard for you to stay with us, but it does exist, Miller. You can be happy without all this death and sacrifice. If you just let yourself.”

A breeze came down the alleyway, and even through his long sleeves Miller could feel his hair stand up. “I fucked it up.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Then fix it. He still cares about you. He’d take your stupid ass back. Life is too short, man.” 

He shouldered the door open and gave one last glance at Miller. “Are you ready?” 

Miller nodded, even though he wasn’t sure at all. “I’m ready.”

* * *

(As they ran through the door and crouched through the hallways, all Miller could think about was how they had laid on the couch after making out. The weight of Monty’s body half lying on his own, the tickle of his hair against Miller’s neck, the sound of his soft breaths—all of it warring for space in his head.

“I wish all days could end like this,” Monty had said wistfully.

Miller’s breath hitched. “Maybe they could.”

Monty had sensed the weight of it, hadn’t pushed, but when he leaped up to straddle him there was a new sense of something in the air. There was something that was dangerous and sweet all at once. Miller hadn’t been able to place it then, and he hadn’t spent too long trying to figure it out. There were more important things to deal with. 

It was hope, he realized. The room had been filled with hope.)

* * *

To their luck and amazement, Bellamy and Miller were not killed the second they entered a room with a mob of werewolves. There was only a council of about eight they had to really get through, and from there they were reassured the whole thing would fall apart besides for a few stragglers that Jasper and Monty had identified.

Bellamy took one out in the hallway with a long swipe of his silver machete, and Miller took another down the second they stepped into the big meeting space. Then they had both zoned in on Dante—he was the one to kill. If they could take him down, they could take everyone done. 

“What are these strangers doing here?” he asked. Dante’s eyes narrowed, and he turned to his son, Cage. Monty had warned them he would be there, and he was the second most important person to kill. 

Miller was surprised someone who looked like they were crumbling was able to keep an empire together, but he remembered the words Monty had uttered over and over again. About how dangerous he was. How he was smart enough to manipulate anyone into anything. 

Small scuffles started to break out, and while someone ran right at Bellamy, Miller slipped behind to make his way to Dante. Jasper flung himself at Cage as Miller passed, the two morphing into werewolves just as they clashed. There were still too many people standing around not participating, waiting to see who the winning side would be. 

_ Kill Dante _ , Miller repeated in his head like a mantra.  _ Kill him and it’s all over.  _

Dante slipped into his werewolf form right when he saw Miller coming at him, the blade of silver at Miller’s side. It had been a silly hope to think he might not have to deal with him in his wolf form. He was lythe, fast, and Miller swiped out with his blade to be met with air. Dante’s growled, his white fur seeming to spike up. 

Bellamy yelled something from behind him, but the roar of the crowd made it impossible to hear the words. Something clawed at Miller’s back, and he collapsed to his knees. His body shook, and the pain took over.  _ Kill Dante _ , his brain reminded, and he pushed up just in time to see Dante escaping down a hallway. 

His back screamed, but he pushed forward. Another wolf jumped at him, and he swiped the head off with a clean blow. He tried to not remember that this was a person, but it was his life against their life. Was he worth it? Miller ignored the thought, following the fur of Dante as he turned the corner. 

The hallway ended abruptly, and Miller halted in his steps. Growling, Dante walked closer and pushed forward. Miller swiped out, but Dante pushed back. They twisted around each other, and Miller realized he was now cornered. 

“Miller? They’re down–” Monty halted in his own steps, seeing the scene laid out in front of him. His eyes seemed to light on fire, and he sprinted forward toward the two of them. 

Miller was about to yell, but then Monty was shifting. It was so weird to see Monty as a wolf, and still he looked  _ like  _ Monty. His hair was dark and shiny, his stature more muscular than Dante’s but still lithe. It was the eyes that did it, ultimately. Warm and homely. 

The two wolves clashed in the middle, growls and crashes filling the space. Miller tried to watch, but they almost moved too quickly. It was just white and black, spiraling and crashing. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure how to take out Dante without accidentally hurting Monty. 

A whine echoed against the halls, and Miller watched as Dante bit onto Monty’s leg. Miller jumped forward and tackled Dante off of Monty. His teeth were bared, and Miller clamored for his machete. A claw ripped into his chest, and Miller screamed as he whipped his hand up and cut into Dante’s neck, missing slightly and hitting his shoulder. 

Monty rose back up, tackling Dante off of Miller, and then a squeal hit the air. Then, silence. Miller rushed forward, ignoring the ache in his stomach where Dante had stood on top of him and dug in. Monty laid there, motionless. 

“Monty,” Miller said. “Monty! Are you okay? Please,  _ please _ . I need you to be okay.” His voice was rushed and frantic. “I love you, please, come on.”

Monty’s body shifted back all at once, and then the fur was gone and Monty was there. His body looked crumpled like a doll dropped on the floor and forgotten. But his chest rose and fell, albeit a bit irregularly, and that was enough to keep Miller breathing, too. 

“Oh my god,” Monty said finally after a laugh and a cough. “That fucking hurt.”

Miller laughed, and he bent forward to give him a sound kiss on the lips. Monty tiredly responded, a hand coming up to clutch at the back of Miller’s head. 

Resting his head on Monty’s chest, Miller took a deep breath. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would have done.”

Monty’s hand still sat on his head, and he gave his neck a squeeze. “I’m okay and you’re okay. Everyone out there is okay. Well, except the people who aren’t meant to be okay. They’re dead.”

“So, Bellamy’s fine?” Miller asked. “Everyone’s fine?”

Monty nodded. “We underestimated how many people would start fighting once they knew what was going on. People I didn’t think would want to get into it, did. It made taking them all down a hell of a lot easier.” 

Miller fell back onto the hard concrete floor. He released a sigh, feeling the ache all throughout his body but a sense of relief, too. “Thank god.”

Monty gasped as he adjusted his body. He rested his head back on the concrete as he shut his eyes. “So, like, what do we do now?” 

Miller laughed. Even though his chest ached and his lungs were on fire. The world spiraled around them, but all he could do was tilt his head and watch Monty’s profile. The erratic up and downs of his chest and the soft smile fighting on his lips. “We figure it out.”

He scoffed. “We figure it out. Like that's a practical answer. You’re so dramatic.” 

“I’m not dramatic.” 

Monty met his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “You and Bellamy really are. You don’t carry around a silver machete to kill a werewolf without some sense of drama.” He reached forward and kissed Miller; short, soft, sweet. “We should go on a date. Like, a not Walmart date.”

“Taking down a werewolf mob boss isn’t a good enough date for you?” Miller asked, but his voice was soft, too.

“I deserve wooing, Nate.”

Miller reached a hand out to cup Monty’s cheek, wiping away a speck of blood. “You do.” When he kissed him again, this time lingering a beat more, Miller thought he might finally get it. The whole giving it all up thing, the moving onto the next stage. Clarke and Bellamy, the prospect of a baby to watch out for,  _ Monty _ —it made him want to reach out to the unknowable future and give it a shot. 

The ground was cold against his back, and when he tipped his head back and took a deep breath, the world felt alive around him. Monty’s fingers tangled in his own, and the weight on his chest released with a breath. 

In a moment they would have to stand up, get out of here, find Bellamy and go to clean themselves up. But, for now, they laid and thought and held onto one another. 

They would figure it out, but they didn’t have to do that quite yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> fight me (or like love me, or like whatever) on tumblr: [clarkescrusade](http://clarkescrusade.tumblr.com/)


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